


Goddammit, Aramis

by penguingal



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 13:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5587906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguingal/pseuds/penguingal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Returning to the Garrison after the events at Marmion's observatory, Athos has an important conversation with Aramis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goddammit, Aramis

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a conversation with kimannebb about what might have happened after Aramis bows to the King all while making eyes at Queen Anne at the end of "Through a Glass Darkly" (Season 2). This is my answer.

“You haven’t said a word since we returned,” Aramis says to Athos as they stable the horses. 

Athos grunts. He puts his saddle up and releases his horse from her reins, coaxing her into her stable and brushing her down. When he exits, Aramis is still there, leaning against a post, and Athos sighs.

“Come with me,” Athos orders, turning on his heel and heading to the barracks. He doesn’t check to see if Aramis is following, trusting that he will. He leads him into his room and closes the door behind them.

“Athos--”

“Are you trying to get yourself executed?” Athos asks, cutting him off. “Just tell me, Aramis. Are you actively asking for the King to stretch your neck? Because he will! Without hesitating. Then he’ll string the Queen up right next to you.” He sighs and softens his tone a little. “And if I’m lucky, he’ll just hang me, too, but I’ll probably end up before the firing squad again.”

Athos pulls his hat off and tosses it to the side almost carelessly, running his hands violently through his hair. “You just couldn’t resist it, could you?” 

“I bowed to the King,” Aramis says.

“No,” Athos says, advancing on him and lowering his voice. He points one gloved finger at him. “What you did is make eyes at the Queen of France while bowing, passing it off as bowing to the King. You’re only lucky he couldn’t see the way the Queen was looking at you.”

“Was I not supposed to show deference to the King as I passed him?” Aramis says. “Was I not supposed to rescue the Queen and the Dauphin?” He takes a shaky breath. “I did what I had to do, what it was my duty to do.” 

“You could have walked to the horses and bypassed the King and Queen entirely! You can’t help yourself and you’re begging to be caught!” He lunges for Aramis. “Do you have any idea what it would do to me?” he asks, fists clenched in Aramis’s tunic. He shakes him. “Do you think I could stand to watch you tried and executed for treason?” 

“Athos,” Aramis says, putting a hand on Athos’s neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

Athos releases him, shoving Aramis back lightly and turning away. He rubs a hand over his face and frowns when he realizes his hands are shaking. He tugs off his gloves quickly to hide the shaking from Aramis.

Aramis sighs and puts his hands on his hips. “Does it matter that I love her? That I love my son?” he asks quietly. “I know I can never be with them and it is agony each time I see her.” 

Athos sighs and looks at Aramis again. “No. It doesn’t matter. Your agony is unimportant in this situation.” 

Aramis looks pained and he drops his hands, misery sweeping his features.

“It doesn’t matter to the King or to the law,” Athos continues. “Though it matters to me very much,” he finishes softly. “I should have done something to stop you at the convent. I should have stayed with you after Sister Helen died. I saw how upset you were…”

“It’s not your fault, Athos,” Aramis says. 

“No, it’s not my fault. But I should have been a better friend to you,” Athos says. “If I could take away your agony now, I would.” He steps up to Aramis and this time cups his face in his hands. “For now, I need you to show me that you still have some instinct for self-preservation. You must try to control yourself and not wear your heart out on your sleeve for everyone to see. It’s too dangerous. Please. For me.”

“Athos,” Aramis murmurs. “I promise I’ll try.”

Athos caresses Aramis’s cheek, searching his eyes for a long moment. He starts to pull away but Aramis surprises him with a hand in his tunic that pulls him in for a bruising, devouring kiss. One hand moves from Aramis’s face into his hair, holding him in place. 

When they finally pull back, both of them breathing harder now, Athos draws his eyebrows together, but before he can even form the question, Aramis is answering it. 

“You might not wear your heart on your sleeve, but it’s in your eyes,” Aramis says. “I’m amazed I hadn’t seen it until now.”

“There was always someone else for you,” Athos explains. “You caught me in an unguarded moment.”

“I like you unguarded,” Aramis says. “It works for you.” 

Athos ducks his head and a small smile plays across his features. He stamps down on a flicker of disappointment when Aramis pulls away, but that disappointment quickly changes to confusion as Aramis starts opening buckles and taking off his myriad of weapons. “What are you doing?” Athos asks lightly. 

“I would have thought it was obvious,” Aramis says, not stopping what he’s doing. “I’m undressing.”

Athos’s throat goes dry. “Yes, that I can see. But--why?”

Licking his lips, Aramis looks up at Athos from under his lashes. “I would have thought that was obvious, too,” he murmurs, his voice deep. 

“Just a moment ago you were professing your love for the Queen, and now you want to take me to bed?” Athos asks. He takes a step forward before he even realizes what he’s doing.

“I was rather hoping you would be the one to take me, but yes,” Aramis says. “Athos, there is room in my heart for both of you. Please--come to bed with me. To soothe both of our lonely souls.” He holds his hand out to Athos and grins when Athos takes it and allows himself to be pulled in. 

Athos again cups Aramis’s face, pulling him into another kiss, this one less demanding and more exploring. “You are the most confusing, frustrating man sometimes,” he says, more than a few notes of exacerbation in his voice. Reaching out, he starts pulling at the buckles on Aramis’s tunic, perhaps more frantically than he really intended.

Aramis grins and works on the buttons of Athos’s tunic in the same manner. It takes them some effort, and more than a few growls of frustration that it is taking so long, to get to skin. Finally, Aramis is able to run his hands along Athos’s chest, winning him a soft, low moan. 

“How long has it been, since you’ve been touched like this?” Aramis murmurs, leaning close and inhaling his scent.

“Longer than I would care to admit,” Athos says softly. He slides his hands up Aramis’s back, digging into his warm skin with his fingertips. 

Aramis moans softly. “Then I shall be pleased to re-acquaint you with the sensations,” he says, kissing Athos’s neck and nibbling lightly. 

“Get on the bed,” Athos growls, a hard note of command in his voice. Aramis shivers and he automatically moves to comply. Athos runs his hand down Aramis’s chest, his deft fingers lingering on all the well-healed scars. 

“It seems I’ve always been rather reckless,” Aramis murmurs as he looks up at Athos, gesturing at the fresh cuts on his face as though to prove his point. 

Athos gives him a small, indulgent smile. “These are badges of honor, and they make you no less beautiful to me.” He sits on the edge of the bed and leans down to kiss one of the scars as he runs his hand down Aramis’s chest and over his small clothes.

“Athos,” Aramis groans, arching and trying to push his hips into Athos’s hand, but it’s short of where he really wants it to be. 

“So impatient,” Athos comments with a lift of his eyebrow. “One would think you were the one who hadn’t been touched in a long time.”

“I haven’t,” Aramis admits. “Not since that one night with--since that night at the convent.”

“Oh, Aramis,” Athos murmurs. He relents and allows his hand to slide the rest of the way down, rubbing over Aramis’s obvious arousal. Aramis hisses as the fabric pulls against his most sensitive places but pushes up into Athos’s hand regardless. “I haven’t shared this with a man in quite some time. I’ve forgotten how easy it is to get a reaction to a relatively simple touch.”

“I should have gotten you into bed ages ago,” Aramis comments, his hand running along Athos’s arm. “Apparently it is the only place you’re talkative.” 

Athos chuckles and leans down. “There is one particularly effective way to stop my mouth. Well--two.”

Aramis wraps a hand in Athos’s long hair and tugs him down, smashing their mouths together. He moans as Athos caresses him more firmly, at last slipping under his clothes to wrap his hand properly around his heated flesh. 

“That was one,” Athos says, panting lightly as Aramis releases him. “Shall I show you the other?”

“Yes, Athos… oh god, yes,” Aramis groans, his hips pushing restlessly into Athos’s hand. He leans up and kisses Athos’s neck and shoulder before he can move out of his reach. “I thought I would be the one driving you mad,” he pants.

“You wished to be taken,” Athos reminds him. He tugs Aramis’s small clothes down over his hips as he kisses his way down Aramis’s chest and torso. Aramis’s cock rises proudly once it is freed, the head visible above his foreskin. He sucks the head between his lips, teasing the foreskin with his tongue before pulling more of him inside, sucking the foreskin up over the sensitive head and then releasing him again. 

Aramis writhes under him, one hand clenched on Athos’s shoulder. “A-Ath--oh fuck.” He runs a hand through Athos’s hair, tugging it as a wave of pleasure washes over him. 

“Hush,” Athos chastises, working Aramis with his hand once again. “Unless you wish the whole garrison to know what we’re doing.” Sex between Musketeers isn’t unusual, and even encouraged among those in the same unit to create lasting bonds, but he’d rather save them both the knowing, amused looks. 

Aramis shoves a hand into his mouth and gives Athos a look, begging him silently to continue. 

Athos smirks but then resumes what he was doing, moaning softly at the tang of seed starting to leak from the head of Aramis’s gorgeous cock. He takes in as much of him as he can and sucks hard as he moves up again. He does it over and over, varying his pace as he lets his hands roam and play. It isn’t long before Aramis’s muffled groans shift into high, needy cries of pleasure. 

Aramis is unable to give any kind of warning as he reaches his climax, spilling helplessly down Athos’s throat. He quivers as Athos continues working him until he lies limp against the bed. ‘’Athos…” he murmurs, tugging him up. 

Athos wipes at the corner of his lips and smiles at Aramis, lying blissfully against his sheets. He kisses him slowly, lazily letting their tongues slide across each other. 

“My turn,” Aramis murmurs against his lips, worming his hand into Athos’s small clothes and wrapping a hand around his straining, erect cock. “I wanted to have you inside me, feel you working in and out of my willing body.”

“Next time,” Athos promises. “I--I will not last long enough for that now.” He positions himself more fully over Aramis, pushing his small clothes over his hips to rest below the curve of his ass. He kisses Aramis’s neck and jaw and shoulder, moaning softly as Aramis works him, his foreskin rubbing deliciously at the head of his cock with every stroke. 

Aramis pushes Athos’s hair back so he can see his face. He varies his pace, watching the way Athos reacts until he finds a rhythm that keeps Athos panting and groaning in pleasure. “Beautiful,” Aramis murmurs. “You are so beautiful like this.”

“I--not… not going to last,” Athos manages, his hips following the rhythm of Aramis’s hand. 

“Then don’t try,” Aramis says, stroking Athos’s hair with his free hand. “Let me see you let go.”

Athos groans again and kisses Aramis deeply. He breaks the kiss, panting into his mouth as he finally lets go, his seed spilling across Aramis’s stomach. Aramis murmurs nonsense into his ear as he caresses his body to ease him through the last of his climax. 

“Here,” Aramis says, shifting to the edge of the bed and pulling Athos down behind him, against the wall. “There’s room for us both.”

“You’re a mess,” Athos comments lazily, wrapping an arm around him from behind and running his fingers through the trails of seed on Aramis’s stomach. 

“Mm, I suppose so,” Aramis says, running his fingers along Athos’s wrist. “I’ll clean up later.” 

They lie like that in companionable silence for several long moments, listening to each other breathe. 

“Did you mean it?” Aramis says eventually. 

“Mm? Mean what?” Athos asks, half asleep in a post-climax haze.

“You said ‘next time’. Did you mean it? That there’d be a next time?” 

“Of course I meant it,” Athos says. He kisses Aramis’s shoulder. “If only to soothe your agony. I won’t abandon you again.” 

Aramis turns his head as much as he can to see Athos. “You’ve never abandoned me, Athos. Forgive yourself. You played no role in the situation I now find myself. And I want you for so much more than the soothing of my agonized soul.”

“Then you shall have me,” Athos promises. “I won’t ask you to forget about the Queen. I know you can’t. But I will ask you to be more careful, less obvious. Or I shall have to start punishing you for these transgressions.” 

Aramis smirks and takes Athos’s hand, drawing it up to his mouth and licking at Athos’s fingertips. “Promise?” Aramis asks, an unmistakable note of hope in his voice. 

Athos groans softly. “Incorrigible,” he comments. “And yes, it’s a promise. Now rest. You did fall through a window earlier today.” 

“Mm. I’d nearly forgotten all about that,” Aramis murmurs, pushing himself back against Athos and sharing the warmth of their bodies. 

Shaking his head, Athos presses another kiss to Aramis’s shoulder and closes his eyes.


End file.
